


First Meetings

by lokidreamsinbw



Category: Thor - Fandom
Genre: Love, M/M, Meeting for the first time, and cute, these WILL get fluffy, these can get fluffy, too much cuteness, too much sweet here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidreamsinbw/pseuds/lokidreamsinbw
Summary: This is a little collection of tiny fics about Thor and Loki meeting for the first time.1. Coffee At Noon. --Thor's working in this little coffee shop where Loki always comes to do some journaling.





	First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Thor's working in this little coffee shop where Loki always comes to do some journaling.

There he is sitting there with that notebook of his. He always comes here around noon with that backpack hitched up high on his left shoulder and all that wavy black hair tied in a bun. He keeps an extra hair tie around his wrist just in case. It's usually green, but today it's purple.

Sometimes I'm in the middle of something and I don’t notice him coming in, like if I'm wiping a table or just putting all those noisy sugar packets in a little neat row in their tiny baskets. He's not hard to spot at all; all I need to do is just look around until I spot those glasses of his because they're not easy to miss with those black rims and lenses as thick as my little finger, and he'd be sitting there with his Frappuccino, one loose strand of hair always touching his lashes, all that cool air blowing from the AC making it sway and twirl, elbows all red from all that leaning forward on the table all the time, messing around with that notebook of his.

Sometimes he'd walk up to the counter and I'd be there and he'd ask me for his Frappuccino and he'd be shy and quiet but always smiling a bit and with just that counter between us I'd watch all those beautiful rings of bronze around his pupils. And then he'd see something in my eyes and the tips of his ears would get all red and he'd bite his lips and look away, look anywhere and everywhere just so I wouldn't catch on to him blushing and it never fails to make my heart get that crazy flutter, that mind blowing contrast between all the warm blush creeping up his neck and that ice cold coffee, a sweet summer fantasy. 

It's a summer job for me and it's the summer break for him too. Sometimes he's got next year's school books all piled up there on the table and there's so many I catch myself wondering how they all fit inside that little backpack of his. Sometimes it's just library books, classics most of the time and all that light catching on those sleek covers leaves all those shattered light trails over my eyes and they fall like lightning, shimmering and glittering and they make me squint but still it's hard to look away because with all that black hair and white skin he looks like a flash of winter sitting there in the sunlight, his shoulders looking like they're sprinkled with gold dust. 

Sometimes he's reading for a bit. Sometimes he's studying. But he's always journaling. He's got all those kinds of washi tape things girls like to use and pens and markers scattered all over the place and he's cutting and pasting and I walk by and I don't have to be all that close to hear all those wet sounds the markers make when they move over the pages. 

He's always munching on his pens and on that pink straw and writing with his left hand, leaving all those crooked words on the pages because he's one of those people you can stare at their handwriting for hours and never understand a thing. And sometimes I take a peek when he's not noticing me and he's got postcards in there: London dreaming in the moonlight, Canada on this beautiful spring day; and all those tickets from concerts and leaflets from all kinds of library events and museum stuff.

I always wanted to get this chance to just look through his notebook because I wanted to know what his heart looks like and it's hard to tell from just looking at someone; and also because I'd catch him looking at me from time to time and I'd get this feeling that he's observing me and I'd know that some of these words he'd written in that notebook of his are about me.

At some point, he's done with his Frappuccino after I'd caught him looking at me a few times maybe twenty minutes before when I was still behind the counter, and he wipes his hands with a few napkins before deciding that's too much ink and color there on his skin and it's better to try and wash all that off because those napkins just won't do. 

I watch him and he's tucking that strand of hair behind his ear over and over again because it just won't behave while getting up and closing his notebook over the pen. I'm flipping packets of sugar between my fingers and those little guys make so much noise but he's not even turning his head to look, he just pushes this little pile of books to the side with his left hip and heads up the stairs over to the sinks all lined up overlooking the coffee shop. His table isn't visible from up there and I watch him until I can't see his slim shoulders anymore and then I move over to that table and start messing around with the sugars there too because not looking like I'm snooping is a must because people could be watching, and I casually open the notebook. With the pen still in there it opens right to the page he was just working on and there's a postcard pasted there-this coffee shop in black and white with one corner of it folded- and just underneath it he'd written just one word in red. One word and a question mark. 

 

Spying?

Holy shit, he caught me staring.

Sometimes I do things without thinking and this is definitely one of those times. I grab the pen and scribble my answer just underneath it.

 

How'd you know?

 

Later, I'm behind the counter and he comes up to me and he's smiling and he's handing me the notebook with this shy twinkle in his eye and I open it and I love his crazy handwriting. 

 

I've been watching you too.


End file.
